Trevor's Deadly Croak
by nederick
Summary: In the mean streets of Hogsmeade, Big Nev has reached status of Gangster supreme, his goal: to eradicate Severus Snape. Harry Potter, for the good of his snape-created personalised hair gel, must protect him. Updated!
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my genius

Chapter One

Harry Potter leaned back on his Habitat leather chair, breathing in the cumulous smoke of his Cuban cigar. The office was dark and dingy, it smelt of tobacco and Harry Potter's specially created gel now that he had enslaved Snape for his own Potter-ish means.

After Voldemort's defeat, Harry became an Auror, like he had always dreamed of. Through his celebrity status, Harry Potter set up his own Auror business. A special elite force for the richest of the Wizarding community. The Malfoys had been his top customer before he was forced to kill them by another client, Mr Dumbledore.

There was a knock on the door. A woman came inside. She was wearing Channel No.5 which mingled lusciously with the cigar-smoke, her faux-pas mink coat carefully wrapped around her womanly figure. Harry Potter let the cigar slide to the corner of his mouth, and with a croaky masculine voice he uttered:  
  
'Well, if it isn't Hermione Granger...what do you want, baby?' She silkily walked over, her strides feminine and curvy.

'Hey, Harry, sweetheart. I need your help.'

'My help? Well, I don't know about that, baby...'

'Hey, sweedie, maybe, if you help me, I could, you know honey...help you...' She stepped closer, her Gucci heels making sharp clipping sounds, her buy- one-get-one-free lip gloss making her mouth glimmer threateningly.

'Maybe you're right, you're not dum for a chick, you know?'

'Mr Potter, I'm not the sort of girl you should say that too.'

'Really, honey, and why is that?' She laughed huskily.

'Because, honey, I'm Hermione Granger.'

The dark streets of Hogsmeade were fraught with danger now that the Dementors were free to create in Wizarding society. It was his job to protect the people and the town from Gangster's like Big Nev, former Neville Longbottom, who roamed the streets seeking revenge on his Potions Master.

'It's not easy,' when Harry had heard Granger's proposal. 'But to save our hair and beauty products, I'll do anything.' She leaned over his desk, her perfumed fragrance choking him.

'Just use your broomstick, honey, and a little of that Potter charm, and we'll have that Big Nev in a coffin, safe and sound.'  
  
When Snape had heard of the threat of Big Nev's revenge. He had never felt so relieved. Finally, an escape from the daily torture of making beauty products for the ex-student force of Hogwarts! It was a black and stormy, the night they had stormed his house in East London and dragged him off to their little communal prison. Draco was there too, wanting a piece of the action, wanting a personalised dye for his darkening hair...and Crabbe, dieting pills...Millicent Bulstrode, well, she wanted the whole damn Revlon factory...

The potion simmered, emitting vile fumes, superficial fumes that were actually tanning his sallow face. Snape felt afraid of the advancing beauty that could descend on him if he was not killed soon by the wrath of the Dunderhead. Not a Dunderhead anymore though...  
  
'Well, Snape, I got good news for you...'

'You God damn son-of-a-bitch!' He shouted when he heard the news. 'What did you do that for?'

'To retain beauty, Snape. Now, I got an extra order for minimizing teeth lotion from Granger. Make it good Snape, I want to sleep with a small- toothed babe before the end of the week.'

Big Nev was playing poker with a couple of Gangsters. Big Bob, Big Pete, and Small Simon. He knew they all hated him. He knew they were stroking various types of Russian revolvers under the table, ready to blast him when he cheated. But Big Nev wasn't scared, no, Big Nev was as calm as a cucumber potion...

Mr Dumbledore had approached him the other day about his obsession with the death of the Potions Teacher. He had tried to talk him out of it. But it damn well wasn't going to happen. No, Big Nev was going to see that God damn bastard burn in his own shrinking solution...or was it a strengthening solution? God damn it, he didn't know!  
  
Suddenly, as he put down his triplet, a gun shot rang out in the cellar. Small Simon had made his move.

'Hey, Flitwick, don't mess with me...' an equal shot rang out, only this time, it didn't miss.

Big Bob and Big Pete were both chucked in the river. Big Nev wrung his hands in un-quenchable glee. Murder got him all tingly inside.  
  
Trevor croaked.

'Patience, my minion, patience, soon Snape will join them, you'll see.'


	2. Chapter two Trevor's escape

Chapter two  
  
Ah! How wrong Big Nev was, Harry thought as he drove his sleek Jaguar through the streets, (stopping to wave at Madame Rosmerta who he enjoyed a guilt-free relationship with), listening to the echoing evil laughter of the revenge-seeking Big Nev. How wrong, now that world-renowned womaniser Harry Potter was on the case.  
  
Snape wanted to laugh evilly, as was his trait, he wanted to sneer or smirk or raise an eyebrow but, quite honestly, he just didn't feel like it. There was a time to be evil, and there was a time to sulk. And, locked in a cellar, it was a time to do the latter. Snape crossed his arms, let his greasy (yet now stylish) hair fall around his sallow (but now slightly tanned) face and hmphed his way through the night.  
  
Hermione knew when she was needed, when her sexy glances, her smooth innuendo, and her fluttering eyelashes were invaluable to the cause, and such a time had come. Big Nev would be like putty in her fake-nail super- smooth hands. Before, she was bookish Hermione Granger, the girl no-one really liked because no-one really cared (or, as Hermione used to say, because they were all gay), but now, with help from the big-nosed cockroach, Hermione Granger surpassed even Fleur in seduction. Fleur, pah! What a fake!  
  
Trevor was becoming impatient, it was true. Not even the murder of gangsters could satisfy his need for blood. Some said he was the incarnation of the Dark Lord, some said he was just a very lonely toad, others that Neville was a very sick person. He croaked noisily. Big Nev checked on his extensive range of rifles, explosives and poisons before turning in. Unbeknownst to him, Trevor had hopped out, and was now seeking out the Potions Master, all by his toad-ish self.  
  
At three am in the morning, Severus Snape was shocked to find a rather large, green and angry toad sitting in his shoe.  
  
AN – thank you for your reviews, reviewers. Yes, I am a little strange, seek refuge in the fact that I don't utterly believe in everything that I write. Please, any worries, phone the nearest asylum. 


	3. Chapter Three

Chapter Three  
  
A cry rang out in the communal prison, one so chilling that Mrs. Norris had a heart attack and became a piece of taxidermy on Filch's desk.  
  
Trevor had committed his revenge. He hopped away, lazily, knowing that his master would be displeased, but that he had been satisfied, and that his heart was now stilled.  
  
Professor S Snape, a teacher too wonderful for words, a Death Eater too wonderful for curses and a man...a very slimy man, lay dead next to a mixture of minimising tooth lotion, his black cloak making a temporary grave before Draco came along and dumped him in Hagrid's celery field.  
  
A terrible end, I think you'll agree.  
  
No-one knew quite how Trevor did it, and quite honestly, no-one cared.  
  
Millicent Bulstrode, when the news reached her ugly ears, wept ugly tears, and went to her ugly bed and never came out again...apart from the ugly festival that came once a year to Ugly Village.  
  
Big Nev awoke to find he was Trevor-less, and that an attractive (yet rather big-toothed) femme-fatale was watching him from the corner of his room.  
  
'Hello, Neville, sweedie,' she licked her lips. 'My, haven't you grown?'  
  
From this point, many horrible and graphic circumstances happened which I do not want to go to detail in. Quite horrible, involving mink coats and Nev's collection of guns. Anyway, it ended in Neville shouting 'I shall not kill him' in a weird orgasmic way.  
  
Hermione rubbed her hands – a successful night indeed. She adjusted her suspenders (a fiver from Marks and Sparks) and smiled seductively in Big Nev's direction.  
  
As Neville lit a cigarette, the door swung open and there, in the enfolding shadows, sat Trevor....and he croaked.  
  
The scream was heard all through Hogsmeade. Madame Rosemerta was confused at first, since she was the only person who screamed in Hogsmeade (a nice comfortable virginal village) but then blamed it on the gnomes and their gothic rituals; little did she know of the horrors that befell Hermione Granger that night.  
  
Harry Potter stopped his Jaguar. Hermione's scream, he mused, looked in the overhead mirror, quickly ran his fingers through his gelled hair and got out of the car with a plastic revolver he had got free from Coco-Pops.  
  
'No worries, Babe,' he growled. 'I'll save you.' 


	4. Chapter Four

Chapter Four  
  
Harry Potter arrived at No. 14 Rose Drive only to find that Big Nev, his toad and his collection of weaponry, had fled. (Obviously, the rifles didn't flee as such, they were inside a bag that was fleeing with Big Nev...although the bag can't walk either...actually they drove in away in a jeep...)  
  
Only Hermione Granger was left, dead, on the floor. A ladder in her stockings and shocking knots in her hair. Harry immediately fell to the floor and brought her, with shaking arms, near to his manly chest: 'Baby, wake up!' unfortunately, his rather stupid disposition led him to believe that she wasn't dead, it took him a while to realise that she was not sleeping with an arched back and open eyes and lolling tongue but, in fact, she was very much dead. Thus he cried: 'Noooooooooooooooooooooooooo!' in a very deep and manly way, as only he could.  
  
Trevor who was nestling in his Master's pocket, could feel the reverberations of revenge from Hogsmeade to the M4 (where he was, they were going to stop soon at services in order to get petrol and a sandwich).  
  
He, as Harry Potter did, knew that it would not be long before they would meet again.  
  
Mr Dumbledore sucked at a sherbet (you know when they get clogged up with spit so you can't get at the sweet sherbet? Yeah, he had that), and mused in an omniscient way. Snape, his long time hate-object, was dead...and now the woman of his weird dreams – Hermione – a femme-fatale of her age, dead with him. How many to go?  
  
This was worse than Voldemort! I mean, it only took a prophecy and a seventeen year old boy who didn't know how to pronounce occlumency to overthrow him...this was a completely different matter. The toad had to be destroyed.  
  
The best Auror in the business was on its tracks, but was that really enough? They needed back-up. They needed someone like Michael Corleone in the second Godfather film (which he enjoyed immensely), to get rid of the damned (yet dangerous) Toad.  
  
Malfoy was dead (he wouldn't have been enough anyway, all those feminine locks would have gotten in the way)...Karkaroff was a goat...Grawp was a pimp in New York and wasn't up to this anymore...Hagrid – an idiot...  
  
He had one choice – it was time – to wake up Lord Voldemort. 


End file.
